


Imagine its Christmas and its just us

by ccshbh



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Oh hey its the Christmas fic I started writing way too late, You are welcome, no drama as always, toothrottingfluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:43:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21991387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccshbh/pseuds/ccshbh
Summary: Betty and Jughead. Christmas. Fluff ensues. Thats all.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 9
Kudos: 46





	Imagine its Christmas and its just us

4 days. She is going to have 4 full days alone with her husband, one of them being her favorite holiday. There are 4 days that Jughead and her can spend however they want to, before his sister and father will arrive in town on Boxing Day.

Betty stands in her already fully decorated living room, with all the presents wrapped and a full to burst cookie jar hidden away from her ever hungry husband in the furthest corner of one of the top shelves and stares out at the snow unbelievingly.

It can't be. It can't be that they are already done with all the Christmas preperations on December 22nd and that there are really no other work obligations waiting for them. That is just not how their life works now. Their normal is that they are always busy, running from one appointment to another, putting some extra hours in here and there and trying to keep up with their ever chaotic families at home. Its never quiet. Its never calm.

Somehow, they manage to find time for just the two of them at least once a week, even if it means making up colorful excuses to get out of her office's Christmas party, to instead jump her husband as soon as he'd made it through the door that evening. But usually those are the only moments during mostly busy weeks they get to slow down a little.

(Betty is pretty sure she had way more fun that night and definitely was in a better mood than any of her colleagues the following morning.)

But now, despite opening presents on Christmas morning and cooking together for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, there is no set plan and she feels impossibly giddy about it.

As if he is sensing that, Jughead's arm suddenly wraps around her waist from behind and the other one lifts infront of her face, a mug of hot chocolate in hand. She'd almost forgotten that he'd went off to the kitchen to make it.

"You okay?" he asks, eybebrows slightly creased when she takes it from him.

"Yeah I just... Jug, we have a whole 4 days to ourselves now. I'm not sure if I'm shocked about the fact that that hasn't happend in probably a year or just giddy that I get to have you all to myself."

He chuckles, gently turns her in his arms and places his hands on her hips.

"You only realized that now? Baby, I've been looking forward to this for weeks. And honestly, I think we should do little more than lounging on the couch, watching Christmas movies and eat those Christmas cookies you'd thought you can hide from me."

"How did you...?"

"Betts, please. I'm a Jones, we smell Christmas cookies from miles away."

Betty wrinkles her nose in faux confusion.

"But I'm a Jones too now."

Jughead’s lips curl into a smile and she can see that sparkle in his eyes he always gets whenever she says that.

"I'm afraid that is a birth right, babe."

"Urgh, bummer."

...

Hours later they are sitting on the couch, cross legged and facing each other, drained hot chocolates mugs on the coffee table while sharing a plate of Christmas cookies between them and honest to god gossping about the latest developments in both their offices.

Betty isn't really sure how that came about, but one day, Jughead had come home complaining about the fact that if his two coworkers he shared an office with wouldn't finally get off their asses and do something about their raging crushes on each other, he'd push them into a broom closet and lock them in until they’d figured it out. It kind of escalated from there.

"Hey, did I tell you about Jared's newest douchebag move?"

She knows she shouldn't enjoy this as much as she does, in fact she shouldn't enjoy gossiping at all, but like everything she does with Jughead, it is just incredibly fun.

Jared, on the other hand is decidedly less fun. He is her colleague at the local TV-station, head of the sports deparment even and just the kind of man that makes her want to puke on a daily basis. Over the three years she'd already been working there, she'd built up a considerable amount of frustration not only about his behaviour but also the fact that in the leading position he was in he was representing the rest of the male reporters, who were all decent and hard working guys and deserved so much better.

Jughead pops another cookie into his mouth, chews for half a second and then swallows.

"Not yet, but I'm sure it was exceptionally gross."

"Yup. He actually had the nerve to brag to the whole office about how sexy his new flavour of the month..."

"New flavour of the month? Jesus, doesn't the poor girl have name?"

"Jug, they are gone faster then I can follow up with, I'm not bothering with names anymore."

"Yeah right, sorry. Go on."

"Well, apparently it was important for all of us to know how hot she looked in her sexy Santa outfit and that *insert unnecessary details I didn't need or want to know about his sex life here*"

Jughead alomst chokes on his cookie.

"Okay, apart form the fact that, that is actually horribly gross, she was wearing a sexy what?"

"A sexy Santa outfit. Apparently it comes with the hat and a set of bells to attatch to every part of your body you see fit."

He looks at her for a second and then breaks out into a laugh that is so infectous she can't help but laugh along.

"Can we..." he gulps out after a few minutes, snatching at pockets of air and still not able to reign in his laugher. "Can we please make an agreement here and now that we keep sexy Santa..." he is interrupted by anothere chuckle. "sexy Santa outfits out of our bedroom? Honestly, you know how much I love seeing you in any kind of lingerie, in fact I still haven't recovered from the black one you wore the other night, but sexy Santa? That won't amount to anything."

"Promise me the same and we have a deal. I don't want to ever see any other hat on you then yours and for the love of god, no Santa-red boxers. Pinky swear?" Betty answers and lifts her hand grinning. 

"Deal" he smiles and hooks his pinky into hers.

...

On Christmas Eve, after they spent all of the 23rd without even leaving bed, they go iceskating.

Well, Jughead goes ice skating. Betty is first and foremost trying to not loose her balance and break a bone.

Her husband though, is moving like he has never done anything else in his life. It took her a full three years to even figure out that when he was a kid, the little frozen pond right behind Sunny Side trailer park had been as much of an escape for him as his writing had been and he thus had figured out how to keep his balance on the raggedy, old skates he'd found in the trailer and that were 3 sizes to big, by age 10.

It took him another three years to convice her to try for herself. So last year, she stumbled her way around the rink for the first time, not daring to move even an inch from the barriers she'd clung to for at least a small sense of steadiness.

This year she is already going more steady, but still prefers both her hands safely locked into Jughead's who is carefully skating backwards, ready to catch her whenever she looses balance.

When she nearly falls for the 5th time in as many minutes, she lets out an annoyed groan and resists the urge to stomp her foot into the slippery ground.

"I'm never going to learn this" she huffs and leans into Jughead. His arms come around her in an easy and practiced manner and he kisses the top of her head.

"Nah, you are doing great baby. It just takes a little more patience."

"Thats easy for you to say. You've been doing this for 15 years."

He chuckles and nestles his face into her hair.

"Come on, one more round and then we'll go home and warm up."

... 

Two hours later, Betty is sourrounded by nothing but warmth. Its in the water that envelopes her body like a blanket, in the glow of the candles spread all around the bathroom, in Jughead's arms that are securely wrapped around her waist and the plains of his chest against her back.

There is no sound in the room, except for both their breathing and the wind hauling outside, prominsing a snowy Christmas. Betty can't think of a better way to spend Christmas Eve.

They soak until the water gets cold and then, after getting into the oldest but most comfortable cloth they can find, they cook together. Its just stuffed chicken breasts and Betty spends more time with her hands in Jughead's damp hair while kissing him than acutally stuffing the meat, but they get it done.

She looses track of how long they are sitting at the candle light table, but by the time they put their dishes into the sink, she is feeling happy and sleepy and decides cleaning can wait for another few hours. Instead she grabs Jughead's hand to pull him upstairs and they collapse into bed, both of them sound asleep only minutes later.

...

Betty wakes the first time when its still pitch black outside and the red numbers on the alarm clock show 3:30 in the morning. Jughead is not next to her, but she can sense him silently moving around their bedroom. There is the familiar creak of their wadrobe door opening, the telltale rustle of wrapping paper and then her husband makes his way to the door and down to their living room.

She isn't sure why, but for some reason, he'd never given up on putting the presents under the tree during the night. While she places his gift under the tree somewhere between dinner and going to bed on Christmas Eve, he'd taken it up on himself every single year since they'd moved in togehter, to tiptoe his way to the living room in the middle of the night. No matter if it had been just down the hall in their first, crampy apartment or like now, down the stairs in their first (and hopefully last) house.

Its such a Jughead thing to do really. A manifestation of the mixture of weirdness and tenderness that is so purely him, has always been him. She loves him dearly for it.

While she listens to the creaking of the step he always forgets when he makes his way upstairs and athough she can't hear him knows he is swearing under his breath, she falls back asleep smiling.

...

She wakes up the second time, to her husband's lips softley pressing behind her ear, then to her cheek and when she turns to face him, to her lips.

They kiss lazily and slowly, relinquishing in the fact that, expect for opening presents, there is nothing they have to get to. 

Eventually though, they have to break for air and Jughead leans his forehead against hers and mumbles, voice still thick with sleep: "Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas." Betty beams back and then gives him a little shove, so she can get up and fling the covers off herself.

"Come on, Juggie. Time for presents."

He groans, slumping back onto the bed and throws an arm over his eyes.

"I was actually planning on some more cuddles."

"Later." she promises and slaps his chest playfully. "Lets go!"

...

The parcel he hands her is rectangular and feels solid. Its wrapped in red and white striped paper, with a green bow tied neatly around it and it almost pains her to rip it open. Jughead can be crafty if he wants to, but more often than not, things like wrapping Christmas gifts wear out his patience. He is a man of words more than physicality and more than glad to hand any and all craft work required around the house off to her. He'll stand by and hand her the parts and tools she needs, keeping her company and making her laugh, but when he doesn't have to touch a drill or a screw, he is totally fine with it. So she knows that wrapping this present must have been at least a small excercise in patience for him.

She does her best to leave the wrapping unscathered and when she pushes it aside, a medium sized picture frame stares back at her. It doesn't contain a picture though. Its a note, one that had been livnig in her bedside table drawer since March, when on her birthday, Jughead had to leave early for work and couldn't wake her with breakfast in bed like he'd done every year ever since they'd shared a bed on a regular basis. He'd stuck it to the bathroom mirror and the pure sweetness of it had made her whole day:

"Happy Birthday my love,

I can't believe that this is your 8th consecutive birthday I get to share with you. God, I'm such a lucky bastard. I'm also really sorry I couldn't give you the proper wake up this year, but I promise there are crossaints and hot chocolate coming your way as you are reading this.

I can't wait to get home and treat you to the birthday you deserve.

Love,

Juggie."

She'd kept the note, always with the thought of wanting to do something special with it, but obviously he'd beaten her to the punch.

"Betts?" his voice breaks her out of her thoughts and when she looks up at him, he seems suprisingly nervous. "I... do you like it? I didn't know if it was a little arrogant to frame my own note, but you said you didn't want to loose it and..." 

She cuts him of with a swift kiss and the intent to kiss all those ridiculous thoughts right out of his head.

"Juggie, this is so sweet and thoughtful, you have no idea." she mumbles when they break away. Then she flicks her finger against his eyebrow and says: “So know stop overthinking up here Mr. Jones and open your present."

"Oww." he growls and rubs his forhead rather dramatically. "Its Christmas Mrs. Jones. No violence."

She laughs about both his antics and the bubbly feeling in her stomach everytime he calls her "Mrs. Jones" and hands him his present.

He eyes its curiously, unwraps it just as carefully as she had done and nearly drops is when he realizes what it is. The wrapping paper falls away when he lifts the roll of film up higher, the look on his face somewhere between excitment and disbelief.

"Baby, this is an original copy of 'Number 17' from 1932. This must have cost a little..."

Betty lifts her hands and smiles: "Don't worry, the movie theather two blocks down was selling its old film rools and I found this beauty on their website horrendously underpriced and begging to be bought and cherished by someone that values Hitchcock's genius. Old Alfred must be rotating in his grave."

Jughead lets out a chuckle, places the film rool on the couch and wraps his arms around her.

"Eva from work has one of these old projectors and she agreed on lending it to me for New Year's Eve. So, I thought we could maybe build it up in the guest room and have ourselves a good, old-fashioned movie night before the ball..."

This time its him that cuts her off with a kiss and she smiles into it, clinging even closer to him.

"That is the BEST New Year's Eve plan in the history of New Year's Even plans." he whispers and then hugs her to him.

They stand like that for a while, in the middle of their living room, until both of their stomachs growl and they break into a fit of laughter that runs through their whole bodies.

"Looks like instead of getting the Jones’ trademake sixth sense for cookies, I just got your appettie when I took your name." Betty giggles and Jughead shoots her a smile so luminous, it makes her heart stutter.

"Thats kind of sexy." he says and wiggles his eyebrows at her.

She rolls her eyes goodnaturedly. "Chocolate chip pancakes?"

"Oh hell yes." he groans and while they make their way to the kitchen, Betty just knows that no matter what, every Christmas coming up is going to be just as perfect as this one, as long as they are together.


End file.
